A/N: BEFORE you start reading the story I just want to apologize for not uploading for so long. To be honest I was in a really bad place in my life. I had fallen into depression and it was heard to get out. I lost myself and I lost sight of what truly mattered to me. And then one day I opened up my e-mail after such a long time only to see that people had been following my story. And I remembered I had a responsibility to the people who read my story. I'm sorry it took so long to get my head screwed on straight, I'll try to be a better fan fiction author, and try to update more regularly from now on.
People in life fell in to either two categories: the dreamers and the realists.
The dreamers, well, dreamt. They looked at life through a rose colored lens, watching then days pass by in a carousel of memories. The glass was always half full, it was always going to be a great day, and as far as they were concerned, everything in life happened for a reason. A biting comment here and there, would berate them, accusing them of not knowing where to draw the line between fantasy and reality. Eventually, the amount of dreamers eventually dwindled into smaller and smaller numbers. And those who had strayed, who had seen the harsh realities of life would adapt to the brutal reality around them. The lines on their faces would harden, the childlike curiosity that once illuminated their eyes dimmed, and the passing of time was more unwelcome than nostalgic. "It was just one of those phases-" they'd claim in variations of the same old excuse. It was as if they had outgrown their optimism, as if life was always as bleak as they made it out to be. They were ghosts of their former happy selves, dead to the pleasure they once found in simplicity, and grew deader inside each day until they faded out. One day- gone! They had kicked the can, croaked, perished, whatever it was that would be chiseled onto a tombstone on a gloomy rainy day.
At least that's how he saw it. He knew there was no denying the inevitable and certainly no reversing it- hadn't he witnessed the consequences first hand? As for him, he really didn't know who he was. Would it be avarice to call himself a savior of the world?
He liked to believe that he was a dreamer. After all, it had to be optimism that pushed him every crushing step forward to restore his and his brother's bodies?
Unfortunately for him at the moment, he couldn't find enough optimism to push him through every crushing step in the desert. In fact, he seemed to be suffering a shortage of it at the moment. Still, he had managed to salve some of his spirit when he spotted his ebony haired companion, shuffling aimlessly through the terrain. The circumstances in which they met were undeniably horrible. They were stranded in the middle of nowhere, population: 2 tired travelers, and he was pretty certain that there was no water in sight. Of course, he hadn't had the pick of his travelling companion, much preferring to be alongside the familiar comforts of his brother, but beggars couldn't be choosers. After wandering alone for so long, he couldn't help but greet his companion with a warm smile, finally stumbling across a familiar face.
He squashed the guilt that swarmed in his stomach when he caught sight of his companion, sweat lathered on his paler visage. His companion swept his black bangs to the side, slightly huffing in concentration. He delivered a small, reassuring smile and the boy promptly turned away, embarrassed that he had been caught staring. He knew it was horrible, being glad that he didn't have to suffer alone in this barren field of misery, and even worse to resent the person that was helplessly accompanying him. What kind of friend was he supposed to be?
"I guess humans really are greedy creatures," a voice mused in his head. The boy shook his head, before resuming to staring vacantly at the sand. The pitter of sand and gravel crunching underneath his black loafers reminded him that he had to pick up the pace. He urged his legs to push harder and with an aching creak of his bones, his legs complied. Tooth grinded against tooth as the effect of the physical strain was instantaneous: a sharp pain racked his thighs before a dull ache started to seep into his muscles. A flicker of agony sparked in his ankle joint before he bit it down with sharp bite of his lip. Still, the pain pursued its path of agony, slowly spidering up the back of his calves. His legs quivered as small bursts of pain zapped up his legs like a thousand tiny electric shocks. He experimentally wriggled his big toe, feeling the appendage twitch before popping back into place. His toes crushed uncomfortably against the restrictive rubber shoes. His shoe was starting to feel less like the comfortable loafers the cobbler advertised in his shop window and more like a thick, woolen blanket in the middle of July. Ignoring the small sauna residing in his dress shoe, the boy refocused on taking another step before he felt a cramp building in the back of his knees.
As he pitched his left foot forward, he felt his knee flare before his legs bucked precariously from under him. He bit his lips even harder to stifle the scream building in his throat, tasting the metallic taste of blood- his blood -that sprouted from his lower lip. He tilted backwards a bit, and if the situation wasn't so dire, he could've laughed at how comedic he looked out-of-balance. His arms awkwardly swung out from his sides in a pathetic effort to regain his footing, before frantically swooping in exaggerated circles. He supposed that at the moment, he either looked like a graceful acrobat twisting and contorting his muscles, or a very awkward chicken propelling itself for flight (most probably the latter). His eyes landed on a stray cloud, scattered in the sky, oddly resembling half-eaten sandwich (or the backside of a very fluffy sheep. Never mind, art was never really his forte anyways), zooming out like the dusty camera's in his father's study, the sheep-butt-cloud growing farther, and farther away from him as he fell.
His backbone was the first to make contact- "Slap"-ing against the outstretched sand as the world shifted to a halt. He squinted his eyes, allowing for them to process the blues, blacks, and whites, staining his vision. He relaxed against the sand- had it always felt this firm? Oh right, he wouldn't have known, considering he hadn't taken a single break before he and his companion embarked on this haphazardly strewn survival plan. How long had he been walking now? He was willing to bet on forever.
He scrunched his eyes closed, delivering the crumbling blow to his resistance. He sighed dejectedly, feeling the hot sun glare at him before he felt a strange, blunt protrusion digging into the small of his back.
"What?" he popped his golden eyes opened before a swarm of black and orange assaulted his vision. A pale face, adorned with a catlike smile.
"Taking a break?" his companion inquired, an amused smile on his face.
Upon realizing that he had collapsed Alphonse immediately drew his knees up to his chest, ignoring the groan of his muscles when he laid his head down onto his knees.
"No, just, um," he offered, desperately looking for an excuse to cover his moment of weakness. "I'll get up now, Ling." He made to stand up, only for his legs to tremble at the effort.
"That's ok," Ling casually responded as he flopped backwards onto the sand. "All this walking has my legs aching like crazy. I could really go for some food now to. He yawned and stretched his hands over his head.
At the mention of food, Alphonse's stomach growled. Loudly.
"Gah!" he cried out in surprise as he felt his stomach muscles rumble with dissatisfaction. He quickly replaced his startled look with one of sheepishness as he saw Ling grinning up at him.
"Sorry, it's all so new. Having a real, flesh and blood human body." A wistful look filled his eyes as he recalled being stuck in a suit of armor.
"I'll bet. But I guess I shouldn't mention food again, huh?" Ling rolled over onto his belly, feeling the sand disperse under him.
Al remained quiet as he laid down again, wincing at the hot pebbles that burned his neck, before allowing the heat to cradle his delicate skin. He stared lazily at the sky, watching the seldom of clouds drift lazily across the azure sky. He closed his eyes, imagining peaceful lazy days in his childhood home of Risembool.
Peace, he would soon learn, was nearly impossible to achieve with a motor mouthed prince at his side.
"Alphonse?"
"Hm?" He had run out of strength to form comprehendible sentences.
"Do you think that this…," Ling paused, struggling to find a word that could correctly identify the furry, brown, thing, that was adorned in a combination of lethal looking spikes and beige swirl patterns.
"Say, how safe do you think it would be to eat one of these?" Ling cheerfully asked. He casually pointed to the monstrosity that was firmly rooted to the ground, as if they had spotted a shiny pebble.
Alphonse gawked at the, whatever it was, that was nailed firmly to the ground. Whether it clung to the desert because of some root system or adhesive, Alphonse did not know; nor was he intent on finding out. He sickly suspected that upon pulling the creature out, they would discover some six legged thing or perhaps, some form of sliming tentacles. Or something like that.
He didn't even bother hiding his astonishment. "...I have no idea," he finally admitted. He most definitely did not remember seeing such a grotesque creature in any book, much less in real life. And even if Al had read about it, he doubted he would forget such a disgusting and disturbing description anytime soon. The more he looked at it, the more Alphonse grew certain that it belonged in a tasteless horror novel or a child's nightmares.
"Maybe it's best that we don't chance it," Alphonse offered in a small voice. Under normal conditions it would have been sage advice that any human endowed with a shred of common sense would adhere to. To a Xingese prince, however, it did no such thing.
"Well, we'll never know if don't find out," Ling laughed as if they were about to embark on a picnic rather than uproot a possibly poisonous desert monstrosity. "Onward to it then," he said, unsheathing sword.
A chorus of "Ling no," and "please stop" fell deaf onto Ling's ears as he experimentally parried his sword and approached the desert thing.
"Ling wai-" Alphonse wailed, but if the prince had heard him than he had cheerily tuned him out. Bracing himself, he stood back a foot and swung the steel sword up with ease. A whine of protest died in Alphonse's throat as he stood mesmerized by the fluid movements of Ling's fighting stance.
There's rarely a breeze in the desert, but Alphonse could've sworn that strands of Ling's hair was whipping back slowly all at once. All at once, the quiet "shh," of the wind was thunderous in his ears, and silver steel slashed through the air, the melody of blade and breeze aligning in perfect harmony. Transfixed, Alphonse could only watch as the sharpness of the blade was deftly greeted by a needle so pointed that the ends were no thinner than the width of his own fingernail. The needle's endeavor was fruitless- it was no match for Ling's precise swipe which cleanly split the spike down the middle, spraying bits of translucent sanguine liquid into the air. Still, the sword continued to charge mercilessly into the creature, puncturing its green grotesque covering with an ever so sickening "squelch." It tore into flesh and spun into a full one-eighty before it came out clean on the other side of the creature's carcass. The top, of its cranium came sliding clean off: needles and all.
All at once, Al was breathless and could feel the contractions of his lungs as it pumped more fresh air than ever before. When the harshness of the bitter wind whipped his face, he gladly welcomed the pleasant coolness against his sweaty skin that followed.
"...phonse," a blurry voice called out to him. He ignored it, he didn't want to break the serenity that existed in this single moment of eternity; the burning sun beating down on his skin, the grainy sand shifting beneath his feet, and the hot humidness clouding his senses- he welcomed it all.
"Alphonse!" the same familiar, yet unfamiliar voice called out to him. It sounded strange but not unpleasant, the sound waves hit him as if he were underwater, and Alphonse could envision himself under the sea; not trapped but slowly sinking.
He's sinking, he's drowning, and the world outside of him is crumbling, and- "SMACK!," goes Ling's outstretched palm as it slaps the back of his head. Al coughed a little, and gingerly rubbed a sore spot on his skull. He would bring himself to glare, but he can't because he's a puppet dangling by a string, that's been suddenly jerked from a stage. Al swayed from side to side, shifting left and right, until Ling's hand latches onto his shoulder and his surprisingly strong iron grip steadies him.
"If you think my swordsmanship is amazing Al, you should see me when I chop wood. You'd faint," Ling teases.
For a moment, Al just returns a blank stare. A moment's hesitation is all it takes and the teasing smirk on Ling's face doesn't quite fall off, but slightly slips. A drop of nervous sweat threatens to break out on his face, but Al, thankfully, doesn't give him the opportunity.
"Yeah, right," Al tried to scoff, but even when he tried to look annoyed, he can't help the kind-natured tone that eventually seeped into his voice.
"Aw c'mon Al, no need to be embarrassed. After all, I am a pretty handsome lookin' guy," Ling mocks. He flexes his biceps for effect, but with the sand in his hair and his ragged clothes, the end result is a cross between a hunchback and a hobo.
A snort escaped from Al's mouth, followed by little peals of laughter. "Cut it out," he managed to choke out in between laughs.
"What. a guy can't flaunt his goods every now and then?," Ling puffs out his chest and pushes his arms behind his head and leans out so far, he oddly resembles a piece of elbow macaroni. "As you do know," Ling exaggerates every word in a mock sophisticated tone, "I am the perfect of specimen of men's health." This time he bends out one knee, not-quite-kneeling, and places his hands by his hips.
Al couldn't help himself, collapsing into giggles. He could give Alex Armstrong a run for his money.
Al didn't give Ling the praise of a thank you, but strangely enough, Ling still smiled and murmured a "welcome," as if he had. He accepted his portion quietly tipping his head down into the barest hints of a nod. A small sigh of contentment escaped Al's lips as he tipped the shell into his mouth and allowed the sweet liquid to trickle down his parched throat. He greedily savored every drop that coated his chapped lips and wetted his barren mouth. His brain screamed at him to slow down but his hands ignored the command, choosing to hold the canteen of water slowly in its place.
Quicker than a dart, a pale hand shot out and roughly snatched the water from him. Al but his lips to suppress a cry that was threatening to burst.
"Easy there, big guy," Ling reassured as he held the canteen away from Al. Al formed the words on his tongue but the only thing that escaped his mouth was a small wheeze.
"I' m f-" Al bent over and started to wheeze. "I'm fine," he struggled to utter. And then pain flooded Al's senses.
It was like nothing Al had ever experienced before. His lungs desperately contracted and Al could've sworn that they were on fire. Every gasp for air was like breathing in a torrent of prickly ashes; embers that scratches the sides of his throat before settling in his lungs. His nose felt full, like a dam on the verge of bursting- it left a sharp throbbing sensation against his skull. He blinked, allowing the tears crinkling on the edge of his eyes to drip into the hollowed crevices of his cheekbones before slowly blurring his vision. The sand and sky collapsed into a murky array of blues and goldens that were too vivid for Al's eyes.
"SMACK!" Al gasped as a slap of pain cut across his cheek. Like a fish freshly plucked from the sea, his mouth hung open. The pin stunned him for a few seconds before stumbled to regain his composure.
"Alphonse! Are you ok?" Ling asked, worry reflected in his eyes.
"What?" Al asked, still unsure of what was going on.
"Sorry, I had to slap you. You weren't saying anything" Ling apologized.
At the mention of the slap, his right cheek throbbed in response. He traced his sore cheek with is fingertips, wincing at the slight burning sensation.
"That's ok," Al responded. "What happened?"
"You," Ling paused, unsure how to describe what just happened. "You spaced out," he ultimately decided on.
"Sorry," AL reflexively responded. He couldn't help but think about all the times he had been passed out as a suit of armor. "You're not in that body anymore. You're fine," Al reminded himself, putting his tensions at ease. "I'll try not to space out from now on," Al affirmed.
"Hey, no sweat" Ling chuckled. "It's probably just the heat." Al nodded, mostly to reassure himself. He ignored the lightheartedness in his skull, and the foul taste slowly spreading across his tongue.
An hour later, after the two were in decidedly better moods once their thirst was quenched, Alphonse found himself falling into decent small talk with the prince. And by small talk, he would mostly tune out Ling's bantering, before responding with a half
"I saw a big bear wearing overalls," Ling slurred.
"What? What bear?" Al looked around warily, reassuring himself that it was Ling and not him, who had just went insane.
"I asked, if you are ok" Ling enunciated, as if he were speaking to a five year old.
"Oh" Al ducked his head to hide his blush. "Yeah, I'm fine"
"That's a relief," Ling sighed. He snatched the bottle out of Al's shaking hands. Feeble protests immediately followed. "Sorry, but I'm confiscating this." Ling offered an apologetic smile. "Having that much liquid could be bad for you" he advised. Al tried his best not to strangle him, as Ling took a swig from the cacti.
"Tastes pretty sweet!" Ling exclaimed before taking another lengthy sip. "Not bad." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before rubbing it on his pants. The intricate dragon design on his pants pocket sagged in protest as it was smeared with liquid. "Ahh that hits the spot." He smacked his lips and grinned, before throwing what was left of the creature/plant/organism/whatever-in-truth's-name-it-was onto the sandy ground.
Content and no longer parched, Ling swung his arm around Al, happily invading his personal space. If Ling noticed how Al had stiffened under his touch, he ignored it.
"Ya know when I first saw that thing, I was positive it would taste like crap," Ling cheerfully confessed. "I mean I had some pretty weird things in your country, but this tops it!" Al murmured something unintelligible in response, tugging on the end of his blazer.
Ling carried on with all the merriness of a drunkard, dragging Al (who maintained the rigidity of a nutcracker) all the while. "I mean, your country had a homunculus for a leader, but this!" He paused to chuckle. "This is something else, buddy!" He hooted.
"Hey, why don't we go look for more of these? We can even cook them and eat them!" Ling suggested, a crazed twinkle in his eye.
"What are you, insane?" Al opened his mouth to reply- only to shut it a moment later, already knowing the answer.
"Ling, we can't cook these" Al replied, ready to tear his hair out. "We don't even know what these things are."
"Who cares? They're delicious!" He grinned. "As Emperor of Xing, I declare this my first decree! All citizens must drink from the eternal fountain of the… great sand creature!" He posed heroically and puffed his chest out, emphasizing his order.
Alphonse opened his mouth to reply only to stop short when he saw something rise from the sand. Al gasped as it as it started to take form, the grain of sand slowly rising and clumping together to form feet. More and more sand, flew together until it had assembled into a massive stomach, and continued on to form a large, furry back. Al gaped when he noticed the creature to start to grow long pointed claws, no doubt capable of shredding him like paper. Rounded ears began to form, followed by a semi-elongated snout that darkened in color. Each particle seemed to align perfectly, forming tiny ripples of fur, to a touch of dew on the creature's snout.
"Wait a second- is that a bear?" Indeed it was, as it ruffled its head. But the bear did not simply stare at Alphonse, opening his mouth and letting out a loud roar that rang in Al's eardrums. Its hind legs arched slowly, he seemed to grow taller yet, slowly rising up to its full length as it pushed itself to stand. It took a step the size of a car, calmly walking towards Alphonse.
"And it can walk?!" Al cried in surprise, not caring that he had voiced his thoughts out loud.
The bear strode over to Al, looming down on the boy with his immense figure. Sand flew from the ground covering his immense body. It formed some sort of covering that materialized over the bear's legs all the way up its belly until two thin straps formed over his shoulders. Vaguely, Al recognized the ruffles of cloth as two shiny buckles connected the pants together into "Overalls? Wait, What the heck?"
The beast thumped with every heavy step, leaving a trail of giant paw prints. The corners of its mouth slowly stretched to each side,revealing a neat row of pearly white teeth the size of pocket knives. Al braced himself and formed a tight fist and locking in his frail body. Inwardly he panicked at the sight of the bear's sharp claws and it's pointed incisors.
To his surprise, the bear contorted his mouth into what was an acceptable grin. "Hello there, Alphonse! And how are you today?" the bear greeted. He stuck out one of his furry paws to shake.
"YOU TALK?!" Al exclaimed. He stood there, gaping dumbly, before a grain of sand flew in his mouth and caused him to choke and sputter.
"My, My" the bear grinned. "Aren't you going to shake my hands?" the bear inquired. Al gazed at the bear's paw haphazardly. The last time his brother had egged him to shake any animals paw, he had immediately been bitten and then chased around by a furious fox and a disgruntled zookeeper.
"It would be impolite not to," the bear chided.
"Oh, right," Al rectified, eagerly shaking the bears hairy paw. "Yes Alphonse, shake hands with the giant carnivorous grizzly bear. There's no way this could go wrong at all." Reprimanding himself for his manners, Al pulled away from the bear's paw after he had thoroughly shook it.
"Now, then. On to introductions. As you may know, I'm Mr. Snuffles. And you must be Alphonse Elric," Mr. Snuffles introduced.
"Hold on...I recognize that name..." Al squinted his eyes as he shifted through fifteen solid years of memory.
"Big Brotha, look what mama make me!" a baby Alphonse giggled. He proudly held the sown stuffed bear his mother had made for his third birthday close to his chest. His mother had crafted the overalls from one of Alphonse's old baby outfits, and added a patch of cloth from his old checkered shirt to its stomach.
His older brother glared. "No fair! I wanna play with that!" Ed pouted, snatching away the bear. Al threw a tantrum as his elder brother held his teddy high above his head, where he couldn't get it. In the end, his mother had given Edward a well deserved time out and made a teddy bear for edward, identical, sans for the patch of cloth.
"No way! You can't be real! You're a figment of my imagination!" Al yelled, dismissing the giant bear. "Besides, brother and I burned you in the fire, with the rest of the house," he quietly added.
The bear cocked his large head and continued to smile. "Does it matter?" the bear replied in a curious tone.
"Of course it matters! I'm going crazy!" Al shouted.
In an instant, the bear's visage changed into pure seriousness. "What's real or not real isn't important," the bear warned in a resolute tone. "Your friend over there is in severe danger."
Al sighed, accepting his apparent insanity. "Well, I suppose I have nothing left to lose." "Who Ling?" Al replied. He turned around, and saw that Ling was giving orders and threatening to exile a stray pebble.
"Yes," the bear affirmed. "Your travelling companion is in mortal danger. He seeks to find and eat the other cacti, yes?" the bear inquired.
"Last time I checked, I think so." Al shifted his wary gaze to the remains of the hideous cacti- "so that's what it was."
"You must prevent your friend from consuming any more cacti. If he does, he will anger the most fearsome and powerful creature- Prickly the Unpleasant!" the bear's voice boomed.
"Wait, WHO?" Al asked in dismay.
"Prickly the Unpleasant! And he will inject you with a venom so dangerous, that your friend will perish right where he stands!" the bear warned in terror.
Seemingly had enough with this insanity, Al throw his hands out in the air. "This is crazy! I'm crazy! There is no such thing as Prickly the Unpleasant!" Al ranted.
"But it is true! And if you do not warn your friend about Prickly the Unpleasant, I am afraid you will lose him" the bear patiently advised. To that, Al turned around, not bothering to reply.
"At the very least, you should prevent your friend from eating any more of those strange cacti, yes? They do not look safe to eat."
At that. Al turned his head slightly. "...OK. Tell me what I need to do" Al said, determination flooding his eyes.
Impossibly, the bear's grin grew even larger. "Well, my friend..."
The vultures sighed. Was it really so hard to find some acceptable prey? They looked down at the skinny boy, nodding and seemingly talking to the wind, and another boy who was enthusiastically scolding some rocks. They flew off, in search of better food.